


Rattle My Bones (sell me your lonely soul)

by dollydolittle



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-02
Updated: 2012-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-20 01:20:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/579732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollydolittle/pseuds/dollydolittle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somehow, in the midst of an impromptu road trip with his now ex-boyfriend, he was drunk in Arkansas and doing something ridiculously stupid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rattle My Bones (sell me your lonely soul)

He was drunk.

Somehow, in the midst of an impromptu road trip with his now ex-boyfriend, he was drunk in Arkansas and doing something ridiculously stupid.

The cigar box he’d found still smelled faintly of tobacco. He opened it, laughing at himself as he placed the items in it neatly. First there were the bones, looped into a giant piece of costume jewelry, and then a sprinkling of graveyard dirt, because what the hell, and finally a picture. It was a snapshot, candid, of he and Brad at Burning Man. Sun shining, happy, and so in love.

He ripped it in half, slipping the side with Brad into his pocket and dropping his half into the box. He walked to the center of the crossroads, dust mussing up his boots, and squatted to dig. The dirt was thin, gray and gritty. It stained his hands, clung to the ridges and grooves of his skin, and caught under his nails, but he kept digging until he could wedge the cheap wooden box in. Heaping the displaced dirt back over it was quick and easy, the way afterwards always are, and he stood, still snickering to himself for this insanity and looked around.

There was no one. Not that he expected there to be, because, clearly, this whole demon at the crossroads myth was just that. A myth, a legend, a folktale told in hushed tones with a sly glance or a wink.

With regret, he wiped his hands off on his pants, mind on whether the hotel had a laundry room or not. His cell’s alarm went off, midnight, and he thumbed it off before moving toward his rental car. One breath, one footfall, and then he froze. Someone was chuckling.

“Leaving so soon, Adam Lambert?”

It was like having someone dunk him in ice water, the way the chill ran down his spine. He felt instantly sober and frighteningly terrified. He told himself to keep walking, not to look, not to turn around, but it was as if he was the star of his own personal horror movie and he found himself doing everything his brain was screaming at him not to do.

The man standing across from him was unassuming. Short and cute, but not in a way most people would notice. He was wearing loose jeans and a plaid shirt, his sneakers were well-worn, and his hair was a mess. His eyes were red.

A strangled sound escaped his throat and he watched a smirk curl up the man’s lips. Hands tucked into fraying pockets and those unreal eyes were suddenly big and brown.

“Don’t you like it?” he asked, ducking his head to peer at Adam coyly. There was a hint of a Southern drawl to his voice, something that always made Adam weak in the knees.

“Like what?” he replied faintly and the… _demon_ laughed again, walking toward him. There was a roll to his hips that lit like a fire in Adam’s gut and when he came to a halt, it was in front of him, still immobile.

Hands slid underneath his jacket, caressed, fingers tugged on belt loops and he stood on tiptoe to mouth at Adam’s jaw. “You know what,” he murmured, rocking back onto his heels. He released Adam, ran a hand through hair already in disarray, and let that half smile play over his adorable face once more. “It’s what you want, right? Someone small. Someone dark. Someone who’ll love you unconditionally. Who will worship you. That’s your deepest desire, isn’t it Adam?”

Something dark shuddered through his body, eyes closing as the words washed over him, painted a picture in his mind. He thought of being in love so completely it consumed you and nourished you simultaneously. He thought of nights buried so deep in another that it was like being one entity, whole and complete. He thought of that fire never wavering, never dying, never disappearing.

“He can give you that, Adam.” He opened his eyes and there was the demon, watching him with heavy eyes. “He can be everything you’ve ever wanted and everything you never knew you needed.” Close again, body warm as the night cooled around them. “I can give you him, Adam, just say yes.”

He licked his lips and the demon mirrored the action. Adam swayed even closer at the sight of white teeth biting on that bottom lip. His hand went up, catching it, rubbed his thumb along the fullness and he wanted to say ‘yes’ very badly. Instead, he asked, “Who is he?”

Fingers touched the back of his hand, calloused, and circled his wrist as he drew it downward, an almost parody of affection. “Kris Allen,” the demon said, “You don’t want to know anymore.”

“I don’t?”

“Trust me,” he smirked, eyes flashing scarlet.

“No.” Adam whispered the word across the short distance. It hung between them for a long moment and then the demon shrugged Kris’ shoulders and stepped back, any traces of seduction gone from his body language.

“Then let’s find out what’s behind curtain number two, shall we?” He spread his arms wide, as if the entire world cocooning them was an option. Maybe it was. Adam tilted his head back, the moon was full above trees just beginning to lose their leaves, the stars spread out, so much brighter than in L.A. So many stars out here.

“I want,” Adam breathed into the night, the way he had months ago, stoned and seeing the universe clearly for what felt like the first time, “I want _more_. I want to be a successful recording artist.” He looked at the demon challengingly and got a sigh in return.

“Easily done. I was hoping for something a bit less mundane,” he swept Adam with a disappointed glance, “But fortune and fame it is.” He cracked his neck, approaching again, and Adam stood his ground. “You are aware of the terms?”

He swallowed and nodded. “Yes.”

“Your soul,” the demon said, “and you get your wish and ten long years to enjoy it.” Adam nodded again and he was right there. Adam could smell the aftershave Kris used. “Moment of truth, Adam Lambert, final answer?”

“I’m drunk,” Adam told him, “this is probably a dream.” He let himself touch, the soft skin of his cheek, the curve of his ear. He ran his fingers over the nape of his neck. “A nightmare,” he huffed, digging his fingers into thick hair as he leant his face down.

“Deal or no deal?” the demon huffed, Kris’ lips parting.

“Deal,” Adam said and sealed it with a kiss.


End file.
